


The Gilbert-Holtzmann Equation

by iliveinfantasies



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Community: femmeslash, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Ghostbusters 2016 - Freeform, Holtzbert - Freeform, One Shot Collection, this is way fluffier than I usually get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The small stages that fit together to form one brilliant equation.<br/>Or, the little parts of life that lead to Erin and Holtzmann falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gilbert-Holtzmann Equation

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is far fluffier than what I usually write. I was trying to write another chapter for Five Times Jillian Holtzmann Learned She Was Alone (and One Time She Realized She Wasn't), but this popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. For those following that fic, never fear, there are more chapters on the way.
> 
> Also, find me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife   
> (This was incorrect before because of autocorrect sorry guys)  
> I have soooo many more little one-shot situations like this that I could write about, but this seemed right for this fic. If anyone is interested in me writing another one of these, please let me know, because I have more ideas!

One night, Erin flails in her sleep. Soft whimpers echo across the large room, and Holtzmann looks up from her cluttered worktable to see Erin, asleep, clutching wildly at the edges of the couch, . Holtzmann drops her blowtorch on the table (off, for once), and makes her way softly, with a gentleness she didn’t even know she possessed, over to Erin’s side of the room. She hesitates for just a second before placing a hand gently on Erin’s cheek, stroking her hair lightly, and murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a nightmare, it’s okay.” She repeats this soft mantra until Erin’s eyes flutter open, sleepily.

“Holtz?” she croaks, confusion and relief flashing like movies across her eyes.

“Yeah, kid,” she says, “Just checking on you.”

“I’m older than you,” Erin is barely able to protest before falling back asleep with a soft sigh.

The next day, there is an extra blanket, pillow, and a rather tattered looking Stitch doll laying on the edge of the couch. Neither of them ever says a word about it, but Erin looks up when she sees it, surprise shining in her eyes, and Holtzmann gives her a salacious wink.

* * *

 

One afternoon, Erin can’t find Holtzmann. She comes upstairs from her lunch—cold pizza that she found in the back of the refrigerator, that she is pretty sure was once Holtzmann’s—and is greeted by an empty room. She peers behind the work table, knocks on the bathroom door ( _Holtz, I swear, if you’re attempting to turn the toilet into a portal again_ ), and even peers behind curtains ( _If you’re waiting to scare me…_ ). She strains her ear, and realizes that very faint music is filtering in from the roof. Instant, unexplainable relief washes over her. She peers into the stairwell, making sure that Kevin is not hiding here (he constantly practices for his hide-and-seek tournaments, whether people are actively looking for him or not), and heads up to the roof. The music gets louder as Erin gets closer, _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ blaring from an as-yet-unseen boom box. Holtzmann turns around as Erin steps out from the stairwell, holding a buzzing, glowing orb of some kind.

“Errrriiiinnnn,” she calls. “Daaaaaarling, buddy, pal, perfect timing. I was just about to test this new toy! Come try it!”

Erin glances skeptically at the glowing orb, convinced that this is how she is going to die. But Holtzman’s eves are glowing, and her grin is contagious, and her hair is reflecting the sun just slightly. And Erin can’t help but think that it’s the most beautiful sight she has ever seen.

* * *

 

One morning, there is a minor explosion. Erin, Abby, and Patty are arguing over the coffee machine—all of them want more coffee, but no one wants to actually make it, and none of them want Kevin to, either—when loud BANGS echo from upstairs, followed by an eerie silence. The three of them grow quiet. Hearing nothing, Erin drops her coffee cup, the porcelain smashing on the concrete floor, coffee splattering her with a lukewarm shower of coffee, but she doesn’t care. She leaps toward the stairs, taking two at a time and almost falling backward into Patty ( _Baby, what the hell, STOP that),_ Abby close on her heel. When she enters their shared workshop, she sees nothing, at first, except a smoldering pile of metal and ash on the floor. Then she realizes that the pile of ash is wearing boots, and she feels like she can no longer breathe. She takes off running toward the pile-that-is-Holzmann, and kneels down on the floor next to her. She turns Holtzmann over onto her back and shakes her, vigorously.

“Holtz? Oh god, HOLTZ!” and feels tears start to prick at her eyes. _Nonono,_ she thinks, her heart sinking more with every passing second. Then, suddenly, the eyelashes start to flutter, flicking small pieces of ash, and she opens her mouth.

“Erin?” she cracks out, and coughs lightly.

“Holtzmann!” Erin is barely able to choke out, through her tears.

Holtzmann’s face breaks into a grin, and she nudges Erin with her elbow.

“So,” she says. “Come here often?” Erin laughs loudly as tears streak down her face because god, she truly loves this asshole.

* * *

 

One night, Holtzmann kisses Erin. She and Erin are working on a problem together at Erin’s white boards (they are both particle physicists, after all), and are working from one end to the other, attempting to beat each other in a race to the center.

“GOT IT!” Erin yells, doing an absurd butt-dance as she writes the final numbers in the center of the board. Holtzmann leaps into action, drawing four random numbers in giant handwriting in the center of the board.

“ _Holtz”_ Erin says, mouth twisting into her “I’m a professor” expression. “That does not COUNT and you know it and—“

And Erin is ranting, but she is right and it is perfect and the air feels like dancing and there is so much electricity, and she leans in and gently presses her lips to Erin’s and Erin stops talking. Erin stiffens for a second, stunned, before dropping her pen on the ground and moving her own lips to kiss back. Holtzmann wraps her arms firmly around Erin’s waist, pulling her in closer, and they sway gently, fitting like the most perfect equation she has ever seen.

* * *

 

Most nights, Erin and Holtzmann sit on the couch, wrapped in the spare blanket and _Holtz, why are we group-hugging stuffed animal? It’s an ALIEN, Ghost Girl, get it right,_ and Holtzmann believes that this is what love feels like. Her body hums with electricity and her mind creates music and equations and data swirl together to form a picture of Erin in her mind, and she is happy. Because it’s not always pretty, and it’s not always perfect, but it’s _theirs._ And, really, that’s all she ever wanted.


End file.
